CHAPTER 3
The following morning, the five friends were taking a praktik in quillmanship. They sat on surprisingly comfortable stone chairs pulled up to long, narrow tables arranged in a vee, so that the instructor could help any student without walking too far. Astonishingly, the quillmanship sage was a thin blind man with long salt-and-pepper hair and drooping mustaches. Even though Sage Tyresias could not see, he drew perfect letters and runes on a scribing board and seemed to know when his students made mistakes.
Vic stared at the gray marble columns that held up the high ceiling of the airy room. He wished that they were all in another martial arts praktik, like the one they’d had yesterday. Sage Jun Li had drilled them in barehanded offensive skills and asked the twin cousins to share some of the zy’oah techniques their mothers had taught them. When the praktik ended, the whole class had stayed to watch the sage spar with Tiaret in a presentation of staff and spear maneuvers.
Quillmanship was far less exciting. Beside Vic, Lyssandra wrote her assignment in an even, flowing hand. Instead of doing their specific lessons, he scribbled messages to Gwen in his new book, knowing that the words would appear on her own pages. Sitting on the opposite side of the vee of tables, Gwen frowned at him, glancing at his words. Using her gold stylus, she jotted, Practice Your Quillmanship!
When the words appeared on his page, he grinned and wrote back, I Am. I’m Practicing By Writing To You!”
Vic knew that quillmanship must be important, especially to Elantyans, since every drop of precious aja ink was both valuable and magical. But he wasn’t terribly interested in the class and was glad for the interruption when a skrit flew in, its gossamer wings beating hummingbird-fast, and deposited a scroll on the table in front of the instructor. The fairylike messenger flitted off, leaving the blind man to pick up the scroll, which bore the seal of the Pentumvirate.
Sage Tyresias turned to the class and broke the seal on the scroll. “We have received an important message.” With his blind eyes turned toward the sky, the sage ran his fingers over the symbols printed on the parchment in aja ink and spoke. “As a show of courage and unity, in spite of the ever-present threat of further merlon attacks, the Pentumvirate announces that the Elantyan holiday of Guise Night will indeed be celebrated this evening.”
Excited conversation bubbled through the students. Hardly able to believe that the quillmanship instructor was “reading,” Vic stared in fascination while the sage continued.
“The Virs regard this occasion as an opportunity for the people of our island to inspire each other and demonstrate the strength and resilience of Elantyans. Despite the damage done by the battle kraken and merlon warriors, we cannot postpone community life indefinitely. The festivities—observed with all due caution—will do much to lift the spirits of Elantya’s people.”
The students cheered, as if to prove the statement. Vic looked around at the beaming faces then gave Gwen an eyebrow shrug. Neither of them was familiar with Elantyan holidays, but he figured this must be a good one, since everyone seemed so happy about it.
Gwen, never timid, asked aloud, “What is Guise Night, exactly?”
Sage Snigmythya, who had heard the cheering out in the hallway, poked her head into the quillmanship room just in time to hear Gwen’s question. The woman had owlish eyes and a perpetual expression of befuddlement. “Ah, what a wonderful story! Sage Tyresias, would you permit me? A wonderful story.”
The old blind man nodded to her patiently. “Please, be my guest.”
“Oh, wonderful, wonderful.” Snigmythya seemed harmless and good-hearted, though a bit scatterbrained. Vic, who was often accused of being scatterbrained himself, rather liked her. “Guise Night is a traditional celebration of a victory by Therya, one of the greatest warrior sages who ever lived. One of the greatest! The constellation Therya’s Bow is named for her. Sage Therya traveled with a small band of trusted warriors through one crystal door after another, searching for dark sages who misused their power. Misused, mind you. Therya believed that these evil men and women were trained by Azric himself.
“You all remember Azric, don’t you? The powerful dark sage who created vast immortal armies, which he intended to unleash upon all the worlds linked by crystal doors.”
“We all met his henchman Orpheon,” Tiaret said, frowning at the memory.
“Oh yes, yes, of course. Orpheon. He and Azric managed to escape when the sages of Elantya imposed the Great Closure, sealing the crystal doors to those worlds—along with a good many others—and trapping Azric’s immortal armies forever. Trapping them.” With a smile, she tapped her fingers together as if she had finished her story.
“So, how does Therya fit in to Guise Night?” Gwen prompted.
“Oh, yes! Sage Therya sought out dark sages converted by Azric. We do not know why, but after the Great Closure Azric lost his ability to perform the blood rite to create immortal armies. Perhaps the bright sages Qelsyn and Aennia restricted his power somehow in the Closure—we are not certain. Nevertheless, Azric was able to train new dark sages, and they were dangerous. Yes, dangerous, but not immortal. They could be stopped—and stop them Therya did, in world after world.
“But one day the warrior sage stumbled upon hundreds of dark sages preparing to invade Elantya. They chased Therya and her band, slaughtering anyone who stood in their path—slaughtering them! Therya and her bright sages escaped only by disguising themselves, running from one village to the next, and hiding in the homes of such kindhearted folk as would take in weary strangers. Weary strangers.” Snigmythya gave an emphatic nod.
“And not one of the people who sheltered them came to any harm, you know. Not one. Finally, Therya’s band reached the crystal door and returned to Elantya, just in time to warn the other bright sages. When the evil ones arrived, our island was ready and defeated the invaders in a great battle. To this day, we observe the victory by celebrating Guise Night. To this day. That is when we honor those we respect and admire.” Snigmythya sounded choked up with her own story.
“But why’s it called Guy’s Night, when Therya was a woman?” Vic asked.
Lyssandra touched his hand to draw the thought from his mind. She laughed. “I see the confusion. The translation in your head sounds like another word in your language. It is Guise Night, as in disguise. Students in disguise visit adults they admire, and the adults give them presents to help them on their way.”
“Cool,” Vic said. “It’s like Halloween and Christmas all rolled into one.”
“For those of you who have never participated,” Snigmythya explained, “you may dress as any person or animal you choose.”
“Anything? Well, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to dress up like a merlon,” Vic pointed out.
The female sage held up her hands. “Oh, no! That would be a very bad idea. For safety’s sake. A bad idea.”
Gwen shuddered. “I’m not ready to see another merlon, anyway. Even if it is just my cousin in disguise.”
“Agreed,” Tiaret said. “Yet we will face them whenever they come. We must remain watchful.”
“This is a rather abrupt announcement,” Sharif said. “Where can we find costumes before tonight?”
Blind Sage Tyresias answered. “The Citadel maintains a wardrobe of donated items. Lyssandra can show it to you. Perhaps I should end our quillmanship praktik early?” He received no argument from the students.